With a bound Phil gains the door of their house, from which smoke is now rapidly issuing. Eager hands are put forth to hold him back, but before they can prevent it, he is rushing up the narrow staircase in frantic haste. Hotter grows the air as he ascends. He can scarcely breathe now. O the cruel flames that lick around him! With a desperate struggle, he reaches the last flight. What is this bundle on the topmost stair? It is she—Millie in her little white night-dress; her long hair floating down her back, her small hands folded in prayer. "'Tis I—Phil," he shouts. "I'll save you, Millie." But she is dead, or in a faint, and does not hear him. He snatches her from the ground, and taking her in his arms, gropes his way through the smoke that almost suffocates him. Down the stairs he goes, staggering beneath the weight of his load. His heart beats wildly and he feels his strength failing him. O, he must hold out a moment longer; he is nearly at the bottom. He hears a sudden cry from without—"The engine! The engine!" Friends are cheering him on—"Bravo! Well done, brave boy," they shout. Thank God! The air grows cooler. Only a few more steps and then—a crash from above, and a burning beam comes tumbling down. Phil sees the danger, and bends his body forward to avert the blow from his precious burden. He sinks beneath the weight of the descending wood; but even as he falls, a couple of brave firemen rush to the rescue. They throw off the blazing log, raise the fearless boy—helpless and unconscious now—and carry both children in safety to the open air. The fireman who holds Millie in his arms thinks at first that she is dead, but she has only fainted. She is not burnt, her night-dress is hardly scorched; some of her pretty hair is singed, "that is all," the people say. How they clap and cheer the brave men who have saved them! But their loudest cheers are for Phil himself, who lies there so white and still—for Phil, whose noble act of heroism will never pass from the memories of those who witnessed it. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER VII. IN THE HOSPITAL. IT was many hours before Phil regained consciousness. He opened his eyes to find himself occupying a bed in a hospital ward. How came he there? He wondered—and O! What a fearful pain quivered in his right shoulder and down his back! By his bedside stood a gentleman who met his questioning glance with a smile, and said gently: "You are in safe hands, Phil. I think you have heard my name before. I am Dr. Bethune, Miss Crawford's friend." "What is the matter with me? Who brought me here?" Phil asked faintly. "Don't you remember? Your house caught fire, and in saving your sister, you got badly burnt." Yes, Phil remembered now. The hot blood rushed to his face, and then receded, leaving him deadly pale.